“You’re kidding!” I say, agog.

“You’re kidding!” mimics Minnie at once.

“What was she doing? And why would she lie about it?”

Danny shrugs and stuffs about six grapes into his mouth at once.

“I need ice water,” he says fretfully. “This water isn’t chill enough. Where’s Kasey?”

He starts to text, and I lean back in my chair, watching Alicia as she selects pieces of grapefruit. I knew she was up to something. What was she doing in the Four Seasons lobby at midnight? It sounds totally suspicious, if you ask me. I’m about to ask Danny for more details, when I suddenly notice that Elinor has fallen asleep on the table. Her face is squashed up and her hair is skewiff and I can hear a gentle snoring.

I am so tempted to take a selfie with her right now. But, no. That wouldn’t be the act of a kind, mature daughter-in-law.

“Elinor.” I shake her gently. “Elinor, wake up!”

“Huh?” She comes to with a start and rubs at her eyes while I watch in alarm, half-expecting flakes of skin to start falling off her face.

“Have some more water.” I hand her the glass and look at my watch. “Tarkie and Dad should be here soon.”

“If they come,” says Luke, who is tucking into bacon and eggs and feeding every other forkful to Minnie.

“ ‘If they come’?” I stare at him in dismay. “What do you mean? Of course they’ll come.”

“Kidding,” puts in Minnie emphatically. “You’re kidding.” She looks around proudly and pinches a strawberry off Mum’s plate. But Mum doesn’t even notice. She’s also staring at Luke in consternation.

“What makes you say that, Luke? Has Graham been in touch with you?”

“Of course not,” says Luke patiently as Suze sits down again. “But it’s ten past nine now. If this appointment was going to happen, I think they’d be on time. I just have a hunch about it.”

“A hunch?” says Mum suspiciously.

“What do you know?” demands Suze. “Luke, what aren’t you telling us?”

“Luke doesn’t know anything!” I say hurriedly. “And his instincts are usually wrong. I’m sure they’ll turn up.”

But I’m lying, of course. Luke’s instincts are usually spot on. Why else has he done so well in business? He can read people and situations and think ahead of everyone else. And then, as we’re sitting there silently, sipping our drinks, my phone rings. I pull it out and see Dad on the screen, and my heart plummets.

“Dad!” I exclaim determinedly. “Great! Are you here? We’re sitting at the big circular table, next to the huge display of fruit.”

“Becky—” He stops, and there’s silence and I know, I just know.

“Dad, I’m passing you over to Mum,” I say in a kind of fierce, bright way. “Right now. You’re talking to Mum.”

I’m not being the messenger anymore. I can’t do it.

I hand the phone to Mum and furiously start cutting up a melon slice. My head is bowed over the plate, but I can hear Mum’s voice getting shriller and shriller: